


Bittersweet Fool

by zenmin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Viktor with a K, banquet fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenmin/pseuds/zenmin
Summary: Nothing catches Viktor Nikiforov off guard. Nothing, that is, except Katsuki Yuuri.loosely inspired by Dance with Me by Ra Ra Riot.





	

“Now you have to be my coach, Viktor,” Yuuri whined, his body flush against the other man. 

Viktor’s breath caught in his throat. He could feel a blush rising to his face and the thought that he was normally the one making other people flustered flashed through his mind, but was quickly banished by the stupid drunken grin on Katsuki’s face. 

 

Viktor opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue caught on his teeth. For the first time in his life, he was actually speechless, no one liner, no pick up, nothing even slightly witty crossed his mind. The two Yuri’s had challenged each other to a dance off, and Viktor had been stunned to silence when Yuuri had declared his prize if he won was Viktor coaching him, so he supposed his silence was taken as agreement. Now, with Yuuri so close to him, he was more inclined to agree to whatever mess he had gotten himself into, mostly because he could barely think. His thoughts were a cacophonous mixture of “Where the hell did this kid come from?’ and “How could I possibly say no to him?” and “How have I never noticed you before?”  

 

Yuuri’s hands found his own and tugged at them, leading him to the dancefloor. “Dance with me, Viktor, please,” he slurred, shooting Viktor another painfully cute smile. 

 

Viktor nodded, allowing himself to be dragged out into the middle of the room, all eyes on them as Yuuri, who had lost his pants at some moment in time that Viktor had forgotten, attempted to dance, his skill having greatly decreased as his blood alcohol level had done the opposite. He was a mess, truly, his face flushed and pink, his tie tied around his head, his hair a bird’s nest, but Viktor felt a flutter in his stomach every time he looked at the younger man. 

 

Finally he brought himself to speak. “Where have you been this whole time?” 

“What’d’ya mean?” Yuuri asked, taking Viktor’s hands and placing them one on his hip and holding the other, as though they were about to ballroom dance. 

“This whole time, I’ve never met you, how did you just… slip by me like this?” 

“Lots of careful planning,” Yuuri stumbled over his words. “You’re _Viktor_ _Nikiforov_. And I’m just… bad at skating and good at keeping to myself.” 

“You can’t be that bad, if you made it this far,” Viktor countered, letting his hand settle in the small of Yuuri’s back, pushing the fleeting thought that if felt like it was made to go there to the back of his mind. 

“I was good, but, uh, you know. Stuff,” Yuuri said, resting his head on Viktor’s shoulder as they swayed side to side in a fashion Viktor wasn’t sure really qualified as dancing, but if lead to Yuuri being this close, he thought he might do it for the rest of his natural born life. “Woah. Did you know this room is titled?” Yuuri mumbled against Viktor’s shirt.

“It might just be your head that’s tilted, love,” Viktor murmured back to him. “Close your eyes, you might feel better.” 

“Mm, but then I can’t see you,” Yuuri complained, closing them anyway, nuzzling against Viktor. 

 

Viktor prayed that his heartbeat wasn’t as loud as it felt, but he wasn’t sure Yuuri was quite there enough to even register it if it was. He wasn’t even sure how long he and Yuuri had been standing, Yuuri with his eyes closed and Viktor knew he was staring at him like some lovesick schoolboy, but he couldn't tear his gaze away, not until Yuuri startled him out of the silence. 

 

“You know, I’ve wanted to skate on the same rink as you since the first time I saw you on tv,” he mumbled, grimacing. “And I had to go and embarrass myself in front of you. I would have done well if.. If.” Yuuri trailed off, his brow furrowing. 

“If what?” 

“It’s dumb.” 

“Tell me,” Viktor asked, squeezing Yuuri’s hand reassuringly. 

“My dog passed and it… it threw me off a little bit. I know it sounds silly, and as an athlete I should be able to forget about it when I’m on the rink but-” 

“No,” Viktor cut him off. “There are some things that affect you no matter how professional you are,” he said firmly. His heart was breaking for the man in his arms. He couldn’t imagine the pain he was in. “If Makkachin was to d- I can’t imagine what I would do if anything were to happen to Makkachin, I’m so sorry, Yuuri.” 

“He looked just like Makkachin, too, if Makkachin was tiny. I named him after you, but we all called him Vicchan,” Yuuri continued. He lifted his head and smiled at Viktor, his eyes glassy. He spun away from Viktor rather clumsily as Viktor held his hand up to accommodate the spin absentmindedly, his mind too jarred by what Yuuri had just said. 

“You what?” he asked, as Yuuri span back into him with the ballroom dancing skill of a toddler. 

“Named my do- I”m going to be sick,” Yuuri said, cutting himself off. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide as he looked at Viktor. 

“Oh, um, ok, restroom,” he said quickly, scanning the room for the door marked men’s and making a beeline for it when he finally spotted it, dragging a rather green looking Yuuri behind him. 

 

He pushed Yuuri into the first open stall, kneeling next to him as the other man fell to his knees. 

“S’okay,” he murmured, rubbing small circles into Yuuri’s back. “You’re alright.” 

 

“False alarm, I think,” Yuuri sighed as he  leant back against the wall of the stall, his head lolling to the side. 

 

“We should uh.. We should find your coach, huh? So he can take you back to your room?” Viktor asked, still kneeling on the floor. 

“Mmm, you’re my coach now, remember?” Yuuri smirked. “Why don’t you take me back to your room?” 

“Hey, I never agreed to-”

Viktor’s heart nearly stopped when Yuuri reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling it towards him and making Viktor lose his balance, landing him on all fours over Yuuri, his face just inches away from the other man. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his heart pounding in his ears. “Any other night, Yuuri, I would say yes, but you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying,” he stuttered, getting up to his feet just to put some space between the two of him. 

“Any other night, you wouldn’t have noticed me,” Yuuri slurred. 

“I don’t think that’s possible, Yuuri,” Viktor laughed. “You’re… You’re something else.” He swallowed painfully. “Something else” didn't even begin to explain just exactly what Yuuri was. There were a lot of words he could think of to describe Yuuri at the moment, but he worried if he thought about it too hard, he might say something stupid, like that Yuuri was the most beautiful specimen of man he had ever seen and he would die if he didn't kiss him right there that very second. He shook his head, trying to collect himself. 

 

“But come on then, let’s go find Ciao Ciao,” he offered, holding his hand out to help Yuuri up. 

Yuuri pouted, but accepted the hand. “Wanna stay with you,” he whined. 

“Tomorrow, ok? Tomorrow when you’ve sobered up, then we’ll talk.” Viktor assured him, leading him to the exit. 

“How about,” Yuuri began, a stupid grin spreading across his face, “I’ll wait until tomorrow if you give me something I've wanted my whole life?” 

“What's that?” Viktor asked, expecting the answer to be an autograph or one of his costumes from his older programs, and he felt inclined to give Yuuri anything he wanted. He pulled Yuuri up, but the poor kid lost his balance immediately after getting to his feet, placing his palms on Viktor’s chest to steady himself. 

The actual answer hit Viktor like a punch in the gut. 

“I want you to kiss me, Viktor.” 

Yuuri couldn't have said it at a worse time, pressed up against him like that, it would have been so easy to give him exactly what he wanted, exactly what Viktor wanted. But he couldn't. 

“I’m not going to kiss you, Yuuri,” Viktor said firmly, his lips stinging as the words left them. 

The stupid, perfect pout returned to Yuuri’s face. “You don’t want to?” he asked his eyes locked in Viktor’s lips. 

“No, Yuuri, that's not it at all. I never- I,” Viktor stammered, pausing to take a deep breath. “I've never wanted to do something more in my life, Yuuri.” 

“Then why don't you?” he all but whimpered, placing his hands on either side of Viktor’s face and pressing his forehead again the older man’s.

“Yu-uri” Viktor’s breath hitched, and he knew just how wrecked he sounded but he couldn't help it. “I can’t. You’re drunk.” 

“Would want you to even if I wasn’t. Want you all the time. Only difference is I wouldn't be brave enough to ask,” Yuuri chuckled, his sentence punctuated by a hiccup. 

“Well, when you do ask, and you’re  _ sober _ I’ll say yes. But not right now,” Viktor breathed, every part of his body screaming at him to close the small space between their mouths. 

Yuuri whined, his stupid pout becoming poutier, which Viktor did not think was possible, but there it was. Yuuri brushed his thumb across Viktor’s lower lip, sending a shiver through Viktor’s body and Viktor wasn’t sure he would ever recover. 

Viktor shook his head and stepped back, taking Yuuri’s hand as it fell from his face. “Let’s get you back to your coach and to your room ok?” 

“You’re just.. You’re just being rude,” Yuuri stuttered, but he squeezed Viktor’s hand affectionately. 

“I could say the same about you,” Viktor retorted, pushing his way through the bathroom door and back out into the banquet hall. 

 

He only then realized, as heads turned to see who had entered the room, what it must look like, his tie askew from Yuuri’s antics, and Yuuri, of course, with no pants on. 

He averted his gaze to the floor, a flush rising in his cheeks, and continued through the crowd. 

“Viktor?” 

He turned his head to see Chris, also barely clothed, leaning against the wall near the restroom. 

“Chris, it's-”

“Not what it looks like, I know, I know,” Chris waved his hand at him dismissively. “You wish it was, though, don’t you?” he added with a wink 

“Have you seen his coach?” Viktor asked, ignoring Chris’s previous statement. 

“Left. An hour ago. I think he figured Katsuki was in good hands,” Chris shrugged. 

“Shit,” Viktor huffed, exasperated. “Yuuri, do you have your room key?” 

“Yes, it’s in my back pocket,” Yuuri answered. 

“Of your pants?” 

“Of my pants.” 

“And where are your pants, Yuuri?” 

“They’re,” Yuuri began, pausing when he looked down at his legs to find them unclothed. “Oh. They’re not here.” 

“You don’t know where they are?” Vikor asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Nope,” Yuuri answered cheerfully. 

“Looks like he’ll have to stay with you, Viktor. What a shame,” Chris smirked from where he stood. 

“Yeah, just let me stay with you, Viktor,” Yuuri urged, letting go of Viktor’s hand to wrap his arms around Viktor’s waist, hugging him from behind, “Please?” 

 

Viktor placed a hand over Yuuri’s hands, where they linked at his stomach. “Yuu-ri,” he chastised, but it was looking more and more likely that he may end up with a drunk kid sleeping in his bed by the end of the night. “Come on,” he said, prying Yuuri’s hands from around him and leading him towards the ballroom exit. 

“Is that a yes?” Yuuri chimed hopefully. 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“No.”

“Why not? Are you not staying in the hotel? Are you going back to your place?” Yuuri asked. 

“Yuuri, my place is in St. Petersburg. I can't go home tonight,” Viktor laughed. 

“Why not?” 

“We’re in Sochi?” 

“So?” 

“We’re over a day’s drive away,” Viktor answered, giggling again. 

“Oh. Then if you aren't taking me to your place, where are you taking me?” Yuuri whined. 

“Front desk,” Viktor said, dragging him out of the exit and into the hall, immediately bumping into some of the hotel employees, who seemed rather unfazed that there was a pantless man in their hallway. He supposed they'd seen worse. 

“You can't leave me at the front desk! I don't speak Russian,” Yuuri said, the panic in his voice clear. 

“Yuuri, I'm not leaving you at the front desk, I'm not mean. I'm going to see if they can tell me where your room is,” Viktor said. 

Yuuri groaned disapprovingly but let himself be led towards the lobby. 

 

“Hi,” Viktor said, leaning against the front desk when he reached it, Yuuri standing behind him, almost like a kid hiding behind their parent. 

The front desk worker looked from Yuuri to Viktor and back again, obviously concerned. “How… can I help you?” He asked, finally. 

“He’s drunk,” Viktor said, motioning to Yuuri. “And he lost his pants, with his key in it, and he can't remember his room number.”

“Name?”

“Katsuki. K-a-t-s-u-k-i,” Viktor rattled off quickly. 

“Why are you saying my name?” Yuuri asked, tugging at Viktor’s sleeve. 

“Does he have identification?” 

“Not unless it's in his underwear,” Viktor said, glancing back at Yuuri and shushing him. 

“Well, I need something to prove he is who you say he is, and if he doesn't have identification I-” 

Viktor sighed, annoyed. He pulled out his phone and typed Katsuki Yuuri into the search engine. He held the phone out for the clerk to see. “See, that's him. Katsuki Yuuri. Ice skating sweetheart of Hasetsu. That good enough?” 

The clerk tapped on an image and enlarged it, looking back and forth from the phone to Yuuri’s face. “I guess,” he shrugged. He typed into his computer and scanned a keycard. “He's in room 225,” he said handing the key to Viktor. 

Viktor took the card and nodded his thanks. 

 

“Come on,” he said to Yuuri, leading the stumbling man to the elevators.

“Did he tell you my room?” 

“Yep.” 

“Damn it,” Yuuri huffed. 

“Yuuri, it’s for the best, really.” Viktor assured him. They entered the elevator when the door opened. Thankfully, they had it to themselves. Being in an elevator with strangers was awkward enough, Viktor would rather not know what it was like when you were accompanied by a half naked grown man it's a tie tied around his head. 

The door barely had time to close before Yuuri was in his space once again, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s neck and leaning in. “If you  _ really  _ liked me, you'd let me stay with you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against Viktor’s ear. 

“Yuuri, you know that isn’t true,” Viktor shivered. The elevator dinged as the door opened. 

Viktor found the proper room and opened the door for Yuuri, leading him inside. 

 

“You need to go to bed, ok?” 

“Hpmh,” Yuuri replied, but began to unbutton his shirt despite his obvious annoyance. 

Viktor ventured into the bathroom and got Yuuri a glass of water. He rummaged through the toiletry bag that Yuuri had set out on the counter and pulled out some ibuprofen so he could put it out for Yuuri to take in the morning.

 

He walked out of the bathroom to find Yuuri lying down on top of his covers, tie still tied around his head. He chuckled, setting the water and medicine on the bedside table  and sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Yuuri. 

“You forgot this,” he said, gently removing the tie from Yuuri’s hair. 

“Thanks,” Yuuri hummed sleepily. He reached out for Viktor’s hand and brought it to his own cheek, nuzzling into it. “Promise you’ll remember. ” 

“On my life,” Viktor replied. “I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to. Not that I do. But if I did, I coul- nevermind.” he stammered, kicking himself. He never was one to fumble with his words, and yet here he was, making a fool of himself in front of someone who wasn’t even coherent enough to realize he was being a fool. 

“Ok, good,” Yuuri nodded, closing his eyes and bringing Viktor’s fingers to his lips, placing a feather light kiss there. “Goodnight, Viktor. You can stay if you want. I know you won’t but you can.” Yuuri mumbled, pressing his face into his pillow and falling asleep in a matter of moments. 

Viktor sat there for a moment, contemplating his next move. Every part of his body was screaming stay, sleep on the sofa on the other side of the room, or sleep on the floor if that’s what it takes, but whatever you do, don’t let go of this boy when you’ve only just found him. But he doubted he would actually be able to sleep in such close proximity to Yuuri. Yuuri was electric. Every time he looked at the guy, Viktor felt his heartbeat pick up and his head felt fuzzy. There was something about him that was just so much more… alive than Viktor had ever experienced in another person. 

No, he couldn’t stay. 

In what felt like the hardest thirty seconds of his life, Viktor crept out of Yuuri’s room and back to his own floor, falling into bed where he lay sleepless for hours, replaying over and over again what he would say when he found Yuuri in the morning. 

 

****

 

“How about you stop lecturing me on my  _ winning  _ routine and go bother someone else yeah?” Yuri spat, tossing his hair out of his eyes and scowling at Viktor. “Look, there’s your little boyfriend from last night. Bother him, why don’t you?” 

“Where?” Viktor asked, feigning confusion as he scanned the room. He knew Yuuri was there. He had felt his presence in the room the moment he walked in and had been watching him out of the corner of his eye ever since. 

“There,” Yuri said, pointing to where the other man stood, looking rather dejected. “Standing over there moping like someone kicked his puppy. No, actually, he looks more pathetic than that. He looks like someone  _ killed  _ his puppy,” Yuri laughed, clearly pleased with himself. 

‘That’s not funny,” Viktor chastised, not taking his eyes off of where Yuuri stood. Yuuri seemed to sense his gaze and glanced his way, then quickly looked away. 

“Sure, go on, defend him, Romeo,” Plisetsky rolled his eyes. “Just leave me the hell alone.” 

“Right,” Viktor nodded, though he wasn’t really listening. He was too busy trying to think of what he was going to say. He began walking towards Yuuri, his mind racing. 

_ “I believe I owe you a kiss?”  _

_ “I just wanted to know if it’s alright if I make good on that promise I made you?”  _

“Commemorative photo?” 

Surely that wasn’t his own voice. It sounded like him and Yuuri was looking at him as though he had just spoken, but he couldn’t have said that. 

Yuuri shook his head and turned away from him, hurrying in the opposite direction. 

He tried to call after him, stop him from leaving, but no words came out. 

“Commemorative photo?” Viktor heard Yuri scoff from behind him. “You really do have a way with words, old man.” 

“Shut up,” Viktor said, covering his face with his hands to hide his embarrassment. 

“Very smooth, Nikiforov. Commemorative photo?” Yuri repeated, mockingly. “Don’t worry, he probably just figures who forgot who he was because you’re a vapid pretty boy who never remembers anyone they try to kiss at parties.” 

 

Viktor’s heart sank, Yuuri’s quiet plea of  _ promise you’ll remember  _ ringing through his ears as he realized little Yuri was probably right. That may have been his only chance to tell Yuuri what he meant to him, that the few moments that he spent together had ruined him for anyone else,  and it slipped through his fingers. 

His heart had just walked out that door and flown back to Japan. 

It was over. 

**Author's Note:**

> listen i tried my best


End file.
